


Miracle

by larxenethefirefly



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Pete's World, Reunion!fic, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larxenethefirefly/pseuds/larxenethefirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its Christmas Eve, and Rose has given up hope. But Christmas is a time for miracles, and Rose is about to get her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miracle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written for A_Who_In_Whoville for Christmas 2012. Beta'ed by callistawolf
> 
> * * *
> 
> Yes, I know it's not Christmas. But I decided to post this in case I forget.

The dress glittered as she moved, catching the eyes of every attendee. Dark blue with gold embroidery, the gown was floor-length and flattering. As soon as she had seen the maker of the cloth- BW industries- Rose had bought the fabric and sent a local dressmaker a few sketches. The woman had dealt with Rose before and had made the dress exactly to Rose’s tastes.

She still wasn’t certain why she wore it to her parent’s Christmas party. Maybe it was out of hope, maybe it was out of nostalgia. Rose hadn’t even planned on attending until the last possible second, when her mother had unleashed Tony on her. Jackie knew Rose could never break a promise to her little brother; after Tony had extracted the promise that Jackie needed, they had left her flat with a claim that Tony was going to be late for footie practice, never mind that Rose knew very well that Tony didn’t have football practice that day.

Rose had tried explaining that Christmas was about family, yes, but the one gift she wanted would never come. The Doctor, after all, had said it was impossible; and after six years, Rose had lost hope. She didn’t see the point in celebrating if her wish would never come true.

After hearing that, however, Jackie had flown into a fury. “If there is one thing I taught you growing up,” Jackie said, “it’s that giving up is not the way to go. You might as well give up on everything then.”

“He’s not coming back, Mum!” Rose had cried in reply. “The Dimension Cannon failed, and all other avenues of getting back would damage the universes to the point of complete collapse. I’ve tried getting back to him, but it’s clear that it’s not meant to be. He’s not coming to get me, either. I might as well move on with my life.”

Jackie hadn’t given up hope, an irony that Rose hadn’t ignored. But after six years, Rose had made her own life. It might not have been time and the universe, but she was satisfied. She still found plenty of trouble, and thought the Doctor would have been proud.

Still, despite her successes, she was in no mood to party. But faced with the wide, pleading eyes of her little brother, Rose had relented. After all, just because she attended the party didn’t mean she had to stick around afterwards.

A waiter passed with wine, and Rose exchanged her empty glass with a new one. Her mother would no doubt fuss over the amount of alcohol Rose had already ingested in such a short time, but Rose didn’t much care. Maybe it would allow her to collapse as soon as she got back to her flat and she could sleep without dreams that night.

That still left the problem of Christmas day, but Rose would cross that bridge when she got to it. She took a sip from the wine, and let the buzz soak through her. The man from Security, who had been given her eyes lately, smiled as he approached her. She couldn’t recall his name- Gary? Gerry? Whatever- and nodded when he asked her to dance. He wasn’t bad looking, but his eyes were the entirely wrong shade of blue and his hair wasn’t dark enough. But he wanted to dance, so she could give him a dance.

Rose only stumbled once as he pulled her onto the dance floor, but she still noticed his smirk. She discreetly jabbed her heel into his foot in warning, and though his hands wandered, it was nothing inappropriate. It would have been a shame if they had been inappropriate; he was a good security officer, despite his eye for the ladies.

She allowed him three dances before being pulled into another dance by a fellow in a kilt. By this time the wine had left her vision blurry, and though she couldn’t make out his face, he was an excellent dancer. He was also possessive; several people tried to butt in, but she was whisked off before she could respond.

Rose finally got off the dance floor by claiming dizziness, instantly reclaiming her wine and sauntering over to Mickey and Jake.

“You alright there Rose?” Mickey teased. “I saw that stumble.”

Rose grinned- too widely, too fakely, but she could blame the wine- and replied. “These heels are a killer. I’d like to see you wear them and not fall.”

Jake laughed as Mickey pulled a face. “No thanks.”

They chatted idly for a moment, Rose tossing back more wine until even Jake grew concerned. “Rose, you’re gonna have a hell of a hangover,” he warned.

“That’s the point,” she said, cheerily.

“At least get some air,” Jake insisted.

Rose groaned, but finally gave in to avoid Jake’s badgering. She tottered unsteadily out the door, leaning against it for a moment to inhale deeply. The air cleared her head the smallest amount, but she still had a half-empty glass in her hand. She debated for a moment, and then decided to save it. If she drank it now she would need to flag down another waiter, and she was sure her mother had told them by now to avoid her.

The garden surrounding the mansion was cared for by gardeners, but Jackie had done an overhaul a year ago to get rid of most of shrubs that seemed to dominate. Jackie has also made certain that there was always something flowering so that it didn’t resemble a wasteland in winter.

Rose was somewhat disappointed that the rose section wasn’t blooming, as there was a trellis that she loved to escape to whenever she needed a break. The biting cold didn’t bother her; the wine left her pleasantly warm, and the snow had melted a week ago. This winter was far warmer than predicted, which made up for last year’s average of -10 degrees. Rose could still feel the cold however. Her dress wasn’t the smartest thing to wear outside in winter without a wrap, but Rose wanted to feel numb. The weather could cure whatever the wine could not.

By the time she stopped walking, the sounds of the party had left her hearing entirely. Tony’s tree house was nearby, and Rose considered her options. Sober, the climb was no problem, but she wasn’t sober and the glass of wine in her hand would undoubtedly spill. The climb wasn’t really worth the loss of the wine, but the little wooden hut would ward off the chill. The back door was just around the corner, but the tree house was closer. Much closer, really, and she wasn’t ready to face the loneliness of that great big bed.

Yes- Tony’s little tree house was perfect. Rose quickly drank the rest of the wine, placing the empty glass at the base of the tree and grabbed for the rope ladder. It eluded her grasp at first, but Rose finally took hold of it.

The first few rungs were no problem. Rose looked back over her shoulder. Her vision swimming Rose blinked at the distance. How had she gotten up so fast? She must have climbed this ladder enough for the action to be second nature.

Her heel caught, and she froze. Well, that was unexpected. Rose tugged, her foot coming free, but losing her grip in the process. She didn’t even have time to cry out, especially when she landed against something warm and solid rather than the cold ground.

Fuzzily, she blinked. “Kilt man?” she slurred, noticing the shock of red.

“You alright?” the man asked, and Rose wondered why his voice sounded out-of-focus as well. Maybe all the wine was a bad idea after all.

“’M fine,” she replied, attempting to get up. When her legs didn’t cooperate, she giggled. “I think I’m drunk.” Her voice was full of delight.

His voice was wry. “You drank a bottle, easily. Maybe more. What are you doing out in this weather?”

“Did Mum send you?” Rose asked. “She kept saying I drank too much. I only had two glasses, honest. Well.. maybe four.” She looked at the one by the tree. “Five?”

“Whatever you say,” he replied. “You need to get inside, where it’s warm. I’m astonished you haven’t frozen yet, what with all your blood flowing to your limbs.”

Rose giggled. “OOoooh, are you a doctor?” She asked. “I used to have a Doctor. He’s gone now, though, not coming back, nope.” She popped the p. “Said it was impossible. Tried to get back, ya know, but it never worked. But I’m fine, really. I loved him, but he didn’t love me, so I need to move on.” Her legs finally cooperated and she lurched upright. “Oh, look!” she exclaimed. “I’m upright!”

Kilt man was rather persistent, for he immediately latched himself to her arm. “Go ‘way, Kilt Man,” she declared. “Otherwise I’ll have to slap you, and I have it good autori... onthori.... I shall give you the mighty Tyler Slap of Doom.”

“Rose,” the man insisted, “you’re not well.”

“So?” she shrugged. “I do it every year. My Mum’s used to it.”

His voice sounded strangled. “Every year?”

Rose peered at him owlishly. Why couldn’t she see his face? “Yup. Heartbroken, remember? Chrissmass makes it worse.”

The man muttered something that sounded suspiciously like he wished he’d arrived sooner. “Rose, look at me.”  
“I am,” she replied. “Why can’t I see your face?”

“You can’t....? Oh. Sorry.” He shifted, still keeping a hand on her arm, and removed something from his jacket. Rose stared woozily at his kilt. She didn’t recognize that tartan. “Rose?” Kilt man asked again. This time his voice sounded achingly familiar, and Rose froze.

It couldn’t be. Six years, and it was impossible. It couldn’t be him.

“Go ‘way,” she mumbled, trying to tug free. “You aren’t here.”

Kilt man chuckled. “You’re hardly hallucinating, Rose.” His voice tender, he added, “It’s really me.”

Rose held her breath. Slowly, she dragged her eyes upwards, hoping that his face was still fuzzy, then she wouldn’t have to slap him.

Then again, as she took in the bright, sparkling brown eyes and unruly brown hair of the face that haunted her dreams, she might just anyway.

“Ow!” he yelped as he staggered. “What was that for?”

Had she really slapped him? No matter. “You left me,” she sniffed. Or tried to. She couldn’t feel her face. “And you said it was impossible.”

The Doctor- for it was the Doctor, although she wondered when he had gotten the kilt and why he had willingly traded it for his beloved pinstripes- softened. “I was stupid, Rose. I never stopped looking. Thirty years, and I finally broke through. This winter is warmer than normal, yes? That’s ‘cause of me.”

“Pete’s gonna be mad,” Rose replied. “He just got the world to cool down.” She blinked rapidly at him.

He laughed. “I have no doubt he did. But don’t worry; it’ll be right back to normal after we leave, and no one’ll be the wiser.” His hand cupped her cheek. “I’ve missed you Rose.”

“Doctor,” she whispered, leaning into him more than necessary. She stumbled again. “I think I’m gonna pass out soon,” she giggled.

He took her into his arms. “I’d prefer you do that inside. As beautiful as you look, I don’t want to mess up that dress. The design is truly inspired; did you design it? It reminds me of the TARDIS.” He paused a second. “She missed you too, you know.”

There was silence from Rose.

He looked down at the blonde in his arms. She had sagged against him, and was completely out. The Doctor shook his head. Rose was going to have a doozy of a headache when she woke up.

Adjusting his stance, he carefully picked her up bridal style to carry her to the TARDIS, which was parked by the rose garden. His ship always had a flair for the irony.

The least he could do, he thought, was bring her home.

~*~

Rose woke up warm and dressed in a pair of fuzzy pyjamas. She didn’t remember much past the dancing, and vaguely recalled going outside. Mickey must have found her, then. Rose sighed. She hated him seeing her like that, and from the raring headache she must have drank a lot. Not only would Mickey yell at her later, but her mum would too; she hoped that the limited paparazzi in attendance hadn’t caught any less-than-flattering pictures like they had last year. And the year before that. Ok, so maybe her mum had a reason to yell.

She rolled over, blinking blearily at the pill sitting next to a glass of water. The glass was still cool when she picked it up, so whoever left it out for her was still in the house. Rose looked around. That was odd- she was in her flat. Normally she was left to her own devices in her room at the mansion.

Maybe Mickey had dropped her off on his way home...? Her head throbbed and she winced. Right then, the hangover would have to go, and then she would find answers.

Popping the pill in her mouth, she swallowed it down and drained the glass of water. Almost immediately relief spread through her and her headache eased into a very slight ache. Rose eyed the water uncertainly. Had Torchwood developed a hangover pill that she didn’t know about? Surely Pete would have told her...

And hang on. Was that bacon she was smelling?

Warily, Rose crept to her bedroom door. She wasn’t able to see the kitchen from here, but there was definitely someone else in the flat other than her.

Quietly, she crossed the living room, pausing only slightly to pick up a lamp. It was highly unlikely that a robber would break into her flat only to give her a miracle hangover cure and cook her breakfast, but Rose had experienced far stranger things in her life.

The lamp was immediately forgotten when she turned the corner and saw the Doctor holding a pan of still sizzling bacon.

Rose stared in astonishment, memories from last night finally flooding back. He looked slightly ridiculous in her apron, but the large, affable grin he wore was so familiar that Rose’s heart ached.

“Look who’s awake!” he said, cheerily. “Feel better?”

“You...You’re real,” she said, astonished.

He frowned, and his free hand patted down his body. “I certainly hope so. Otherwise you’d be facing a hovering pan of bacon, and that isn’t nearly so brilliant.”

She slowly lowered the lamp. “I thought I had been dreaming,” she said, quietly.

“I’m here, Rose,” the Doctor replied, not breaking her gaze and setting the pan on top of a towel. “It’s really me.”

“How?” she breathed.

“Lots of luck, string, and being in the right place at the right time.” He ignored the lamp as he stepped up to her, cupping her face. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter, Rose. I’m here now, and I’m so, so sorry that it took me this long.”

The lamp thumped to the floor as Rose lunged for him, gripping his lapels and pulling him into a fierce, blazing kiss. He responded immediately, kicking the lamp out of the way as he dragged her to him. His lips were firm and soft against hers, and Rose lost herself to the feel of him against her after all the years apart.

His tongue traced her lips, and she allowed him in without pause. He explored her mouth lazily, as if he hadn’t ever been parted from her and still remembered every square inch of her body. For all she knew he still did. But after six years Rose had forgotten the exact spot that made him squirm when tickling him, and the specific patch of skin that had him gasping when her mouth layered kisses upon it. They had been lovers for so short a time before being parted, and Rose had missed his body against hers desperately the first couple of months after being trapped.

At least, she thought with relief as he picked her up and settled her on the kitchen counter, she hadn’t forgotten his voice.

Her hands worked at his belt and trousers as he tugged at her pyjama bottoms. She needed him; he was there before her, but she needed proof, needed to feel him, needed him inside her. Finally succeeding in unzipping his trousers, she pulled both them and his pants down.

The Doctor groaned as she grabbed him, her hands squeezing as she memorized the feel of him once more. “Rose,” he panted. “I need... a little help here.”

Grudgingly, Rose lifted her hips so he could tug her bottoms down. Using his cock like a handle she tugged him closer until his tip rested at her entrance; she wiggled forward so that he could slide forward easier, and moaned when he finally entered her in one quick, powerful surge.

The shag was quick, hard, and over far too soon for Rose’s liking. She hadn’t had a lover since the Doctor, and knew that she would be sore for a while. From how fast he came, it was clear that he, too, had been celibate.

Rose clung to him as the aftershocks slowly dwindled down, panting. He kissed all the skin he was able to access, murmuring gently to her all the while. She shook, trying to hold back the tears, but at his whispered “I love you” the dam broke and she started to sob.

The Doctor shifted to carry her to her bed. It took some manoeuvring, but he managed to get them under the covers without Rose detaching herself. “I missed you,” she sniffled as she tried to get her tears under control.

He stroked her hair. “Let it out, Rose, you’ve kept it inside far too long.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “My precious girl, I promise, you won’t have to do that again.”

When Rose had finally exhausted her tears, she curled up tightly on top of the Doctor, fearful that if she wasn’t holding on to him he would disappear again. He held her to him, eyes never leaving her face. They were wrapped up in their own private world, simply gazing at each other in disbelief and gratitude.

“Mum said that I shouldn’t give up hope,” Rose said, finally, averting her eyes to watch her fingers trace random patterns on his shoulder.

“For once, Jackie is right about something.” He softly chucked her chin, meeting her eyes. “Did you? Give up I mean?”

Rose considered. “Yes, and no,” she said. “I gave up hope getting back to you. But I never really gave up hope finding you.”

There was a difference, and he nodded. “I suppose,” he replied, “that the day is fitting. The TARDIS must have planned this, sneaky ship. The point is, Christmas is about miracles. And I think that this, being with you here and now, is the greatest miracle I can ever hope to receive.”

“No,” she whispered, sliding up to meet his mouth with hers, “it’s the greatest gift we could ever receive.”

The Doctor smiled as Rose Tyler kissed him once more.

* * *


End file.
